He shook his head "I already lost everything when you were committed to the asylum, when the doctor's told me my son was dead and my beloved wife had gone insane," he let her attack him, only moving out of the way so the razor in his hand wouldn't Nick him. " I hope I do pay for it one day," he muttered as he pried away the Razor from her hand and set down on a table
"It's not your fault, it's mine!" Martha screams furiously, and her voice dies down to a whisper. "It's mine…" She lets her arms hang at her sides, and she looks down. Martha shuts her eyes and tries not to cry, but tears came nevertheless. "It should have been me! Why wasn't it me? Why did it have to be him and not me?" Martha sank to the floor, and she covered her face with her hands, beginning to shake with her sobs. "I want to go back. I want to go back and take his place."
He crouched down a few feet away, not knowing if she was messing with him or if she was genuinely upset, or both. "It should've been me. You knew how to parent better than me. You could've moved on from me." Tears started to roll down his cheeks "I don't know if this helps but he's dead. The one who.. attacked us. He's dead."
"And so is our son. They say it brought me to insanity. They say I'm a criminal. They say it isn't my fault. I don't know anymore. I don't know right from wrong anymore. It's always, 'what I do is right, what you do is wrong.' I just don't know! Can I ask for it to stop? For the pain to go away? For my son to not have been killed? For me not to be stuck in a loony bin? It's kind of funny, in a way. I'm the 'better parent,' but I'm driven to insanity. You're more laid back, but you catch me." Martha scoots herself to a wall, leaning back, and she has an odd grin on her face. "I somehow find positivity in this messed-up world."
He shook his head "the pain will never go away." Thomas glanced up at her "One thing I always love about you. You always find the good in the terrible, driven to insanity or not." He smiled faintly "This whole world has gone down the gutter, maybe it's better to be insane, who's to say that's not the real reality?"
"Heh, yeah. Wish it weren't that true. I don't feel much happiness anymore, more of the thrill of doing the risky. 'Sure, I'll kill some people today!' or, 'How about I do whatever my heart desires?' Granted, you're one of those things. I wish one of us could change. Me to not be insane, or you to become insane. We'd be a family then." Martha sighed. "I doubt we ever could, though. Not with the Bat dead." Martha rose and balled her reluctant, twitching hands into fists, and she sighed. "I guess I can't stop. Whether any of us like it or not." Martha giggles and closes her eyes, opening them a few seconds later. "I guess the insanity will never stop. Not with me. And I'll blame you, but really be blaming myself. Poetic, isn't it? You-you should probably leave. I don't think anything productive will come from this, in either of our cases. I will go to the funeral if they let me. I'll escape one day. I'll find you. And then I'll kill you. Simple as that."
"I asked for a couple of hours," he looked down at his watch, the one he was going to give Bruce at his next birthday "Still got two left." he said "and I intend to stay until then." he sighed and looked around "you know we could lighten this place up, add some lamps, maybe some furniture, a few pillows." He smiled "of course we'd have to nail everything down, don't want you throwing things around."
(instead of Thomas becoming Batman, should he become Joker? I feel like that would make it a bit more interesting)
(And Martha to Batwoman [if that makes sense]? Sure! How'd we do that, though?)
"Yeah. Don't know how they'd nail down pillows, though." Martha sat down, keeping her knees close to her chest. "What do you intend on doing here, anyway? Not much to do but watch me get closer and closer to the brink of insanity, I guess."
(hm…not sure….eh we'll figure that out later)
"I didn't think that through, I guess just talk about anything." He stood and walked over to her "I also brought you this. I knew you asking for it before. I found it a few days ago." Thomas handed her a photo of their family the size of her palm and a silver locket he had given her the day before their wedding
"You…you didn't have to. Th-thank you." She took the gifts generously and self-consciously found herself stroking the locket once it was in her hand. She couldn't stop looking at the photograph, their last photo of their full family. She was smiling, and she had her hand behind Bruce's back, supporting him as only a mother would. "Thank you," Martha whispered, and a peaceful smile crept its way on her face, unintentional for her he=usband to see, but she couldn't stop herself. She could never stop herself for loving what they used to be.
He nodded and smiled faintly “of course.” Seeing the soft smile on hus wifes face made hus heart swell. The first time in a while they’ve had a good moment together, without either of them going crazy or yelling. He debated whether to sit bext to her or let her have her time of peace alone. In the end, he sat a few feet away from her. “I’ll see if i can find a smaller pucture that’ll fit in the locket, necmxt time I come.”
"It's perfect. Thank you. You don't need to change anything. This is too much on its own. I-I really don't deserve this, but thank you." Martha seemed at a loss for words as she admired the gifts with a pleased smile. "Thank you, Thomas."
He smiled and shook his head "it was really no trouble dear." Hearing her call him by his name without rage of her normal craziness made him smile more "is there anything else that you'd like? Of course within standards."
Martha chuckled. "A machine gun, a flamethrower, any way to get me out." She joked, and her smile showed it. "You don't need to get me anything, because this," Martha holds up the locket and picture in one hand, "is more than enough."
He gave a little laugh "I'll see what I can find." He glanced at her with a slight smile "you sure? I'm sure there's something I could find at the house that'll make this place more…homey, or at least livable. I could sneak in some of your favorite food."
"You don't need to do that. Plus, they'd probably catch you. I doubt you could make it ten feet from my door without them smelling sweet and spicy chicken wings." Martha laughed and sighed. "I don't expect you to treat me. You shouldn't. I'm the one stuck in the loony bin, after all."
"I don't remember that tidbit of information at the wedding, or in the vows. About not treating you," he gave a soft smile "I've told you dear, they can't prove anything if they can't catch you." He winked and stood, stretching out and walking around a bit "You won't be in here for long." He muttered softly
"How would you know? I still have outbursts…" Martha sounded sad, but she knew that hardly anything could get her out. It was part of her accepting the new life she had, however terrible it may be.
"that's the fun of it all, I don't know." he glanced up at the ceiling, narrowing his eyes "what do they do to you here?" he asked, not wanting to know the answer but knowing he could never live with himself if she were being harmed in any way.
"They feed me. Give me medications. Give me new medications because the previous ones don't work. Hence why I'm skinnier and weaker now. Fun stuff, I know." Martha was sarcastic at the last part, and she looked to the ground. "They don't take me out at all. I guess I got used to it, though."
He shut his eyes and muttered under his breath "How dare they…." He turned around slowly and sat back down, hand twitching. He tried to breathe evenly but found it difficult "anything else?" he choked
"Huh? Oh. They don't do much besides that. Nothing too bad. Sometimes when my outbursts are bad, they have to restrain me, but that's only happened only a few times." Martha smiled. "You don't need to worry about me."
"that's wasn't in the vows either." He said with a pointed look. "It's my job to worry." He smiled softly "and 'a few times' I an understatement darling,"
"I…I know, but I don't want you to worry about me. You should know that. Back then…all we did was worry about Bruce. Now, I guess you worry for me, but I don't for you. I know you're living modestly, I know that you're safe. If you could, you'd probably take me home, but they won't let you, not with my outbursts. And I know you wouldn't restrain me or keep me malnourished to make sure I won't do to much damage." Martha sighed and traced circles on the dusty, stone floor. She didn't look up, she knew she couldn't bear her husband worrying about her without him being able to do much.
He shook his head, "you think I care what they think what's best for my family? And I don't live at the house anymore. I sold it and now live at Penn Heights, small living spaces. Few accomidations. Just enough to survive." he said. "All I want is for you to come home. I don't care about your outbursts, I don't care about how crazy you get or if you kill millions as long as you come home."